The Monsters
by Pearl-Posts
Summary: He is the monster that lives under your bed and prowls the streets at night. He is infamous thief the Golden Fox. He is an estranged brother. He is Ezra Phantomhive and he is back for his birth rite.
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah so I got this idea from a stupid movie and it kind of took on a really cool mood. This was meant to be a test so I really have no plot yet but I'll get one I swear.**

 **Alright basically this is a kind of twin Ciel theory spinoff because I like the idea but don't support it + a weird Six of Crows (PM me we can scream and yeah this guy is totally Kaz sorry not sorry) style but anyway it's really cool so read it.**

 **So anyway, enjoy!**

 _My dearest Ciel,_

 _I hope you have had a pleasant summer. I can already feel the chill of winter in my old bones. The heat may be gone, but I can practically smell Christmas in the air already._

 _I did not contact you only to discuss the weather, however. I have heard tell of a young man by the alias of the Golden Fox. We do not know much about him, so I am employing you. He is neither friend nor enemy, so do use caution._

 _I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Regards,_

 _Queen Victoria of England_

XxxxxxxX

A cane taps evenly with every step. Its scarlet ruby eyes glint in the evening sun. He flexes bare fingers over the head and waits.

It is dark here, stuffy, and makes his nose hurt. He settles in an overstuffed velvet divan and rests his cane between his knees, folding hands patiently over his lap. He doesn't like his place, but that doesn't mean he can't wait.

It doesn't take long for his host to arrive.

"Ah, you finally came," Lau greets warmly. He stands.

"Well met, Lau."

"Your sticky fingers didn't catch anything on the way in, did they?"

"Not yet." He taps a finger against the gold fox of his cane. "Do you have what I asked?"

"Indeed I do, my lord." The boy flinches a little in his cloak. "My my, did that strike a nerve?"

"Do you have what I asked?" The boy repeats. He holds up an envelope bulging with money and presses it into the man's hand reluctantly.

"Lord Ciel Phantomhive is who you want." The man looks down at him and raises a hookah pipe to his mouth. "Try not to pick anything up on your way out. We all know just how slippery a fish _you_ are."

"Thanks, Lau." The boy rocks in his shoes.

"And thank you, little fish."

"I prefer fox," he comments, turning away. "The golden fox."

"Oh ho," Lau laughs, blowing smoke. "Why a fox?"

He holds up his cane in one hand. "I liked the design."

There are stories mothers tell their children to frighten them into bed early or get them to eat their greens. Do not pout or monsters will get you. Eat your food or the Boogeyman will get you. Demons come out after dark, so you better be in bed.

They are real.

They are the children hidden away. The children born with sores on their faces or features missing, or withered bodies, or decaying skin. The children pale from lack of sunlight, with no names to speak of, the children who are sworn into silence.

He was born into silence, in a locked room. The walls were bare, smooth stone. The floor was metal. There was one window, that looked out into a garden with honey light and colorful flowers. Sometimes, the other boy would play there, with an animal he learned was called a dog.

The boy looked like him. They shared the same moonstone hair and sapphire eyes and alabaster skin. Sometimes, he would imagine he was that boy that ran and played with the dog-animal in the honey sun. Sometimes, he would imagine he boy would come up to his room in the attic and play with him and tell him stories of the outside.

He was ten when it burnt down. The roof had fallen on him but when he awoke from unconsciousness, he simply crawled his way out.

He explored. He learned. He met a magician's son named Ezra who taught him to pull a coin out of thin air and tease a deck of cards. He met a banker's son named Percival who taught him how to add and subtract and to keep his money.

Ezra died of scarlet fever. Percival fell into the Thames.

He became a glutton for knowledge. He knew Ezra and Percival were too kind, so he hoarded what he learned.

He taught himself to pull coins from pockets and purses. He practiced the art of talking and moving at the same time, how to take a man's scarf off his neck and his hat off his head, how to take pies and bread from a baker's pan. Then, he learned valuables and that people wanted them, so he learned to take them and make money.

Next, he learned to steal information.

He learned secrets. He knows what people do at night, behind doors and curtains and walls. He learned how to bluff, where to step, and he perfected talking. It came slowly, but it came.

Finally, he learned reputation. He learned stories. He learned to make them up and spread them. So he spread a tale of a thief called the Golden Fox and his telltale golden cane. He told the tales of monsters, of children lurking in the dark, and he became their master.

He became the Golden Fox, the demon of the Thames, the puppet master of London, the king of the underground. It suited him well.

But he needed something more.

He remembered that boy from the garden under his window.

XxxxxxxX

He raps his cane hard on the solid wood. The manor is impressive, majestic even, in the flattering sunset light.

Almost immediately, the door swings open, and a tall man in an impeccable suit answers with a bow.

"Greetings, sir. I am the butler of this estate. May I help you?"

"Is this the Phantomhive residence?"

"Indeed it is."

He braces his cane against the ground with both hands and says, "My name is Ezra Percival Phantomhive. I need to speak to the Earl here."

 **As always, review/like if you want more! This was kind of a bad idea I think so... You know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I've already got big plans for this story!**

 **Thanks to Makayla1223 for reviewing, favoriting and following and thanks to Ancient Glory for the follow!**

 **Enjooooyyyyyyy**

"Sebastian, who is this?"

Ezra knows the Earl when he sees him. Ezra is a glutton for stories, and this particular Earl has many about him. According to the whole of the London Underground, this boy is the one to fear; the Queen's Watchdog.

"Hello, Earl. My name is Ezra."

He steps inside and the butler swings the door shut behind him.

"Ezra," Ciel Phantomhive repeats. "Do you have a last name?"

"I suppose I do."

"Do you have business here?"

"As much as anyone." He smiles.

"Have we met?" Ezra watches Ciel narrow his eyes and focus on him.

"Do you remember a garden?" Ezra begins, leaning on his golden fox cane. "It was always alight. There was an animal called a dog." Ciel's face is stony and impassive. "Perhaps you remember looking up at the house and catching glimpses of a little boy sitting in the window?"

"Who are you?"

"A monster."

"Clearly."

Anger wells in his throat. Here is the boy from the garden, standing in front of him, three years after his liberation, and he does not know him.

"There are lots of us around," Ezra continues, fisting the anger into his chest. "I just happen to be the one everyone knows the best." He tilts his head as if in consideration. "Perhaps a close second to you."

Ezra takes a moment to appreciate the differences between them. His hair is longer, tied with a red bow at the nape of his neck, and his sapphire eyes are weathered at the corners from too many sleepless nights spent in smoky gambling halls tricking his way into a drunk man's pockets. His skin is marked with faint pale scars from one too many knife fights. Ciel's hair is short and tidy, his eyes wide and childlike and soft, his skin unblemished.

"And what name does this monster go by?" Ciel asks, playing into his game. He smiles. They really are alike.

"The Golden Fox, the demon of the Thames, whatever you prefer." Soft azure eyes narrow.

"Would you like to stay for tea?"

XxxxxxxX

He always imagined this moment to be warmer. There is the rich velvet seats and spiced tea and dark woodwork, just as he imagined. But the boy from the garden, the one with sunbeams like marionette strings on his wrists, is gone. In his place, someone Ezra never hoped to meet; the Watchdog.

The butler enters, hands them tea in silence, and leaves. Still, no words are exchanged.

Finally, Ciel says, "What do you know about me?"

"Nothing."

"You really think I'd believe that?"

"We've never met," Ezra elaborates. "But I know who you are. Everyone does."

"And who might that be?"

"The Watchdog. You're the boy everyone looks out for." He taps his good foot restlessly. "You're Ciel Phantomhive."

There's silence again, and Ciel says in a voice that Ezra imagined while lying awake on creaky beds in musty motel rooms. The voice of a boy, not the Watchdog. "Tell me about the garden."

"I watched you play from the window in the attic."

"Who are you?"

"Ezra." He pauses, and sets his cup down. "Ciel, I'm your twin brother."

Ciel is silent. Ezra isn't one to willingly pass on information to fill the quiet, but sometimes, he has to make exceptions.

"Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive had two sons. I think you're older. You're the perfect one." Ezra rests a hand on his own knee as it twinges with pain. "I'm the one they didn't want people to see."

Finally, Ciel asks, "Why?"

Ezra lens down and untucks the hem of his trousers from his boot and lifts it up. Underneath is a withered leg, an inch shorter than it should be, all puckered skin stretched tightly over knots of unformed muscle.

"It's not as bad as some of the others," Ezra admits.

"Others?"

"The monsters." Ezra reclaims his teacup. "I've met children without limbs, with flesh where eyes should be and eyes where flesh should be." He smiles. "It would make a pampered rich boy weep."

"It is a good thing there are none of those here."

Ezra's smile widens.

In the resounding silence, Ezra's eyes roam the room. Finally, they alight on a thin black walking cane. He snatches up his own cane and whacks it against the other. It clatters to the ground and Ezra tucks his calmly against his side.

"What was that for?" Ciel demands, righting his cane.

"You tell me," He sips his tea, "Why a perfect rich boy like yourself needs a cane."

"It's a symbol of status, if you must know."

"Alright." It came out sharper than he meant. He sets his empty cup down and pulls himself to his feet. "I'll see myself out, Ciel."

"Wait."

Ezra stops. And waits. But finally he just says, "Waiting for a kiss goodbye?"

He hesitates a second longer before showing himself out.

It takes a few days for Ezra to contact him again, but when he does, he can tell the little boy is still there. He learns, though, that the little boy he knew had died in a fire. So he adapts.

Ciel likes chess and sweets. He has no qualms about killing, but when Ezra tells him of his gambling ring and cons, a shadow passes over his face. No matter the boy from the garden; he has been exorcised. Now, this new boy is street-hardened like Ezra is and ready to lay down his life for his beliefs.

They spend a week becoming brothers to one another.

The walk from the Phantomhive manor is long and painful on his bad leg, but it is quiet. He thinks. It is easy to remember the good things about the boy from the garden; the way the sun looked on his face, his smile, the way his fingers would hesitate as they traced with boyish curiosity over delicate rose petals and lilac stems.

There were bad things too, of course. He could have filled a tome with them. The boy's distance, the silence of the night under his window, the days the boy wouldn't come out at all. But most of all, it was the moments he would cast a glance upward with innocent eyes and he would wave, just a lift of his hand and a breeze fluttering through his moonstone hair. Then, he would quickly turn away, as if he was caught stealing food before supper time.

Lord. Earl. That means his parents died.

Ezra has a few memories of his parents as well. They were nice. They smiled. They came up to feed him. They held his hands as he stumbled on one leg to and fro about the room. His mother would read to him and his father would tuck him into the bed pushed into the corner of his bedroom.

A figure approaches as he turns off the carriage path and the lights of the city start winking into existence.

"Sir," he calls out. "Are you… Lord Phantomhive?"

"Yes," he says truthfully. One of them.

"A letter for you from Her Majesty the Queen."

"Thank you."

As he departs, he turns the heavy letter over in his hands.

XxxxxxxX

 _Ciel,_

 _Your information on the Golden Fox was very useful. I am impressed you have found him even when Scotland Yard could not._

 _Detective Aberline of the field crimes division checked birth records for December of 1875, but no one by the name Ezra Percival Phantomhive is logged. We will need more information._

 _Good luck and good job._

 _Regards,_

 _Queen Victoria of England_


	3. Chapter 3

**THANKS TO TheStoryDreamer for the favorite and the follow!**

 **I waaaaaas gonna scrap this story because honestly it's scum but idk I like the feel of it so I going to keep it**

The little girl seems to brighten the room. She wears a pretty costume of gold and feathers, a little ribbon trailing from the dress, and little white ears between her ponytails.

"Who is she?" Ezra mutters to the passing servant, a nearsighted girl with vermillion hair. The kitty girl hasn't noticed him yet, too busy being loud in the entryway.

"Th- The young master's fiancée, Lady Elizabeth!" The maid answers, rushing away.

A fiancée. He missed something in his research.

She's an attractive girl all right, if a bit loud. She doesn't exactly seem like Ciel's type. It must have been arranged. He'll have to ask him about it later.

Ezra pulls himself up from where he was crouching against the bannister. He limps his way onto the stairs and is only noticed when he calls cheerily, "Ciel! You haven't introduced us!"

Ciel startles and backs an appropriate distance from the girl. "Ezra, my fiancée Lizzy. Lizzy, this is Ezra, my brother."

"Hello!" He waves and casts her his best friendly smile.

She stands stock still for a moment before rushing forward and practically throwing him off his feet. His cane clatters to the floor and they both go stumbling. Ezra's withered leg crumples under him.

"Oh, oh, Ciel! A brother!" Lizzy is practically chanting, "A brother! Oh, Ciel!"

"I've heard some nice things about you, my lady," he lies from under her feathered costume.

"Really like what?" She embarrassedly climbs off him and he hauls himself to his feet.

"Well, for starters I've heard you're legendary at costuming!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes!" He collects his cane under him and leans forward a bit, his hair tickling his ear. "I've also heard you've got something special planned for Ciel."

"Wha-!" Ciel starts, but Ezra holds out his hand.

"You shouldn't interrupt a lady, Ciel."

"In fact, I do!" Lizzy exclaims excitedly. She turns to the butler, whose name Ezra has learned is Sebastian, and says, "Won't you assist me, please?"

"Hold on!" Ciel protests even while Sebastian smirks, bows, and agrees.

XxxxxxxX

"I don't get it," Ezra says. Lizzy is pulling Ciel's arm. He is flushed red.

"I'm a kitty," Lizzy spins around, "and Ciel is a puppy!"

Ezra takes a moment to compose himself, but bursts out in laughter anyway. Doubling over his cane, he sobs, "Oh, Lady Lizzy, that is more perfect than you can imagine!"

Ciel is wearing a heavy chocolate brown coat lined with fur, a leather collar with a bell, and floppy, furry ears draped over his head.

"Thank you!" Lizzy preens. "But… What are you?"

"I'm a Phoenix!" Ezra exclaims, spinning around to show off his fiery feathered coat.

"Guests are due to arrive any moment so if we can please wrap up this fashion show," Ciel mutters, pushing his way past a smirking Sebastian and stomping out the door.

Ezra offers his arm to Lizzy and they both follow him slowly. "What's on his bad side this time?"

"Ciel doesn't like Halloween," Lizzy admits. "He doesn't like that I dress him up every year." Her sparkling eyes fall to the floor.

"How about this," Ezra suggests, and Lizzy lifts her chin a little. "You can come over and dress me up all you like!"

Lizzy giggles and nods. But her expression clouds again and she turns serious.

"Ezra?"

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to pry, but where did you come from? I mean, I've never heard of you."

The two reach the door to the ballroom, where the party Lizzy had evidently forced Ciel to throw is already beginning.

"That is a Halloween horror story for another day."

He lets her scurry off and lose herself in the crowd. As the room fills, Ezra watches the servants stumble about, Sebastian make charming chitchat with young women, Lizzy compliment girls left and right, and Ciel refuse every time she asked him to dance.

Ezra himself had never really been able to dance. Or participate in parties. He'd snuck into quite a few, mostly as a servant, sometimes as a guest, but never stayed long enough to bother to enjoy himself. This is different. He has no signals to watch for, nothing immediately incriminating in his pocket (which is a first anyway).

So why does the air feel so tense, like a storm waiting to crack?

It feels like the second after a gun goes off; gunpowder smoke, fear, something rock solid and hard pooling in his stomach.

He watches a moment, the flow and ebb of the crowd. It tells stories; who he needs to watch out for, who he needs to pat down for jewelry, who he needs to challenge to a rigged game of poker.

As the crowd pushes steadily away from Ciel's irritable attitude, they flock around Sebastian and Lizzy.

Ezra watches Lizzy approach Ciel again, clasping fur-lined gloved hands over his and tugging gently. He shakes his head, the little bell jangling charmingly, and her shoulders droop as she disappears back into the crowd.

Ezra purses his lips and limps over to where Ciel is leaning against a wall. He crosses in front of Ciel and digs tee top of his cane into his toe.

"What?" Ciel asks, waving Ezra back.

"You're not dancing."

"I don't like dancing."

"She does." Ezra nods to Lizzy, a spot of bright white against the rich pastels of Halloween costumes.

Ciel is silently moment, sipping his drink, and finally says, "What business do you have?"

Ezra narrows his eyes. "Is there really nothing you find special?"

Ezra watches with satisfaction as Ciel's eye widens. "O- Of course there is!"

"Show me."

"No!"

"I'll go first then," Ezra volunteers, turning away and gesturing behind him. "Come on. It's a bit of a walk."

"Why would I go with you?"

"You're having fun?"

Ezra grins to himself when Ciel falls into step next to him and they both slip from the ballroom.

XxxxxxxX

Ezra knows it's a bad idea to take him here. That letter has been weighing on the back of his mind for weeks. Ciel could be-

He really can't think of that. This is the boy from the garden, for crying out loud!

But then again, this place is secret.

"What is it?" Ciel asks disinterestedly. Ezra taps his fingers on his cane.

"Hell."

And he opens the door.

Ezra can't deny the vulnerability this place has. It's a chink in his armor, a dream in the nightmare he has built around himself. But it's still a crucial part, and he can't deny that he's proud.

This place is what keeps him human, after all. Running cons and rigging gambling houses does surprising things to a thirteen year old's psyche. Or maybe it was living in a closet his whole life.

"Ezra!" A little girl, no more than eight, knocks into his leg. She turns a blistered face to smile up at him.

"Where is everyone else?" Ezra asks, stepping into the room.

"Around," she answers, and skips off.

Ezra catches sight of deeper shadows where the low burnt candles don't reach. He tilts his head at them, and they emerge.

There's a girl with a brow protruding over her milky eyes. A boy with a system of wheels rigged over his hips to act as legs. A boy with a thick mass of bandages instead of a shirt. A girl with little round stubs where hands should be.

Dozens of kids, blistered and burned, with missing limbs and deformed joints, creep from the shadows like a nightmare. Ezra casts a glance over his shoulder. Ciel's mouth is parted, and he is still.

Ezra watches. Ciel is still. The children, the freaks, the monsters, are hesitant.

Finally, Ciel casts him a glance and leaves. Ezra rolls his eyes and follows. The kids snicker.

Ezra closes the door behind him and Ciel turns to face him. The street is silent. A cold, salty wind blows in over the harbor. East End smells of brine, urine, and fish.

"What was that?" Ciel demands.

"You're privileged, Ciel," Ezra states calmly. "You should be happy for what you have."

"In the fire, do you remember anything?"

"No, I woke up after the manor burnt down."

"I saw Mother and Father." Ciel's voice quiets and his eyes narrow. "They were sewn together."

"Ciel-"

"I was tortured."

"Ci-"

"I was sacrificed."

Ciel grits his teeth. He's legitimately angry. Ezra cocks his head, his moonstone tail dropping onto his shoulder. Ciel rips his costume's ears and collar off and throws them to the ground.

Ezra has learned to recognize danger. More than once, his monsters have gone crazy. He learned the look they get in their eyes when they have completely lost themselves. He hasn't, however, learned a foolproof method for dealing with this type of monster.

Autumn wind shrieks between the tight alleys. The streetlight gutters and blows out, the candlelight pooling around their costumed boots retreating like a frightened rabbit. When Ezra's eyes adjust to the moonlight, he almost cries.

The boy, the one from the garden, there's no trace of him. This boy, the one with the disjointed tranquility written over his face, this is his brother.

He looks better in the moonlight, Ezra decides with a small smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**LIFE HAS FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH ME BUT I HAVE GOOD REASONS FOR BEIBG GONE THIS TIME! I'm sure you care *sarcasm* but I'm planning a booooook!**

 **Enjooouyy**

It was almost dawn by the time the Halloween party quieted down. Lizzy and Ezra opted to stay in guest rooms.

Ezra flies past the dining hall door, groaning lowly when Lizzy calls out to him from the table.

"Aren't you staying for breakfast, Ezra?"

"Sorry my lady!" Ezra calls back, pushing his coat button through its hole. "I have places to be. It was nice to meet you!"

He doesn't stay long enough to hear her reply.

He and Ciel hadn't talked since Ezra had divulged his deepest secret; the orphanage. He wondered if Ciel was angry at himself or at Ezra. Perhaps Ciel is loony. Perhaps Ezra is.

As always, the walk to East End is long and he's limping heavily on his bad leg by the time he reaches the street.

He rounds the corner, and immediately presses himself against the back wall.

Scotland Yard buzzes around the street, centered on a tall wooden building tucked between stone; the orphanage.

Ezra ducks into a dark alley and quickly unties the ribbon in his hair, tucks it under his cap, and drops his cane and waistcoat behind a pile of garbage.

He makes his way curiously, sticking close to the opposite side of the street, his shirt collar turned up on one side. Scotland Yard is leading his children one by one out of the building and into a large carriage roped to a pair of horses. The children are looking around, scanning the crowd with wide eyes. It takes Ezra a moment to realize they're looking for him.

He has to think. He can't just run up and challenge England's second finest detectives to a battle on the street. He needs a plan.

He needs Ciel.

Ezra's step falters. He catches sight of sapphire among the pervading dark gray of East End. Ciel, Sebastian close behind, exits the building, a Yard detective close to his side.

Suddenly, Ezra remembers the letter.

Ciel is hunting him.

XxxxxxxX

"Hello, hello, little fox." A cloud of smoke hovers around Lau, but his voice is as smooth as always.

"Did you know?" Ezra asks. "Did you know about Ciel?"

"I know a lot of things about a lot of people."

Ezra scoffs. "Sure. Did you give me his name because you knew he would betray me?"

"Did I?"

"Did you?"

Lau pauses a moment, and finally asks, "What did I do?"

Ezra clenches his cane tightly in his hand. "Never mind. Just… tell me the name of his fiancée."

"I don't know, little fox. Come again later."

Ezra stomps up to his couch, the smoke making his eyes water.

Scotland Yard must have taken his stash of opium, so that's off the table. But the rich are stupid; there's always more money to make.

"Fine. I'll come back tonight."

Ezra's first stop is a gambling hall called the Sweet Prince. The floors are clean, the ale too sweet, the prostitutes too flashy, and it stinks of anger and bankruptcy. It's just like any good gambling hall.

He knows too things about the owner of this gambling hall from various blackmailed spies hanging about. One, his name is Henry Wrighte. Two, he tells no one of his personal life.

Ezra approaches the bar and raps the head of his cane against it. The bartender grumbles over.

Before he can speak, Ezra says, "I need to speak with Mister Wrighte."

"Lose your babysitter, kid?"

"I need to speak to Mister Wrighte."

"Who's askin'?"

Ezra holds up his cane and answers with a satisfied smile, "the Golden Fox. The Terror of the Thames. The Demon of the End. Tell him I have important information."

The bartender raises his eyebrow and scuttles off. Ezra snickers into his hand. He really shouldn't have made up so many nicknames, but the Golden Fox titles carries enough weight itself.

The bartender comes back in and lets Ezra behind the bar. He follows the bartender, not pausing when he passes the moneybox and snatches a handful of bills to shove in his coat pocket.

Ezra has a bank of secrets. He keeps them safely organized in a crawl space under the floorboards in the basement of the orphanage. He has dozens, lined up in little rows in a wooden chest. He keeps them safe, so when he needs to make a withdrawal to fill his pockets, he always knows who to call on. Secrets are the currency of his world.

Ezra's bank is full to capacity. He tries to remember each detail of each note in his little chest, but he can't. So today, he picked a secret he did happen to remember.

The bartender lets Ezra into Wrighte's office. It's cold and dark, with only a gas lamp to light it. He closes the door, and Ezra is safely alone with the owner of the gambling hall.

"The Golden Fox, the infamous Ezra Phantomhive," Wrighte greets.

Ezra tips his hat and says, "Mister Wrighte."

"The Phantomhive name is becoming more and more ominous each passing day, Fox. I don't want it staining my hall."

"And I don't want to be here," Ezra counters. "Yet here we are."

"What do you want?"

"Money."

"Leave."

Ezra taps his cane against the floor. "Mister Wrighte, I have important information on the disappearance of your wife."

His eyes narrow under his heavy brow and his mustache quivers. "What's your price?"

"Eight hundred."

"Four."

"Seven."

"Six."

Ezra holds out his hand. Wrighte digs around his drawer for a moment before pulling out a stack of pounds. He halves it and passes one of the halves to Ezra.

"Your wife," he starts, pocketing it carefully, "has run off with another man."

"Wha- who!" Wrighte sputters indignantly, his face turning red.

"Your bartender." Ezra leans across the desk and snatches the rest of his money.

That was a lie. The only thing Ezra really knew is that Wrighte was on edge because his wife disappeared without a trace last week.

The rest went down smoothly. Ezra paid Lau three hundred pounds for the full name of Ciel's fiancée. Then, he browsed East End for a cheap band of thugs with a decent brain between them.

Satisfied with his shopping spree, he returns to the building on the wharf by sundown. All that's left now is to wait.

XxxxxxxX

By the time Lizzy is in his possession, he is six hundred pounds poorer and a whole lot richer.

She is tied to a chair, her mouth bound and her limbs tied up. Tears streak her face and rain has soaked her pink nightdress almost completely through. Outside, thunder crashes and the building shakes on rickety foundations. Lightning crackles and the candles flicker low on their wicks.

"I apologize, Lizzy." Ezra's voice is quiet and cold. "I must admit something."

He lowers himself into the chair across from her.

"I'm not Ezra Phantomhive at all. My real name is Abell." He cocks his head at her. "Do you know why I had you brought here?"

She shakes her head, sending water droplets flying.

"This place was very important to me. I kept treasure here, but your fiancé stole it from me. So I stole you, his treasure." Ezra leans over his cane. "It has been quite a while, Lizzy. Perhaps he won't come for you at all."

Ezra presses down carefully on the upright tail of his fox cane and twists. The device notches open and the sheath falls away. Ezra pulls a knife, whisper sharp, from the recess in his cane.

"Let's see if I can send him another message."

 **Dearest reader, please give me feedback I beg of you**


End file.
